


i want you in my room

by arzoensis



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bodyswap, M/M, Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 09:47:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18914482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arzoensis/pseuds/arzoensis
Summary: Juuse wakes up before Pekka does, one hand cradling the back of his neck. He wonders how it was so easy to find himself like this, if his body remembers better than his head does. It doesn't make sense—but considering the fact he woke up a couple years in the future, logic's gone out the window a little.





	i want you in my room

**Author's Note:**

> Title’s from Carly Rae Jepsen’s “I Want You In My Room.” DEDICATED SLAPS, BABY!
> 
> I posted this originally on my [Tumblr](http://arzoensis.tumblr.com), but I like it enough for it to go here. So it’s not new, but it be like that sometimes.

 

In his defense, Juuse is very tired. They got back from the airport at 2 or 3 in the morning, and he just managed to get his pants off before he collapsed into bed. As such, and with the wonderful prospect of an entire day off, Juuse doesn’t react at first when he wakes up to the press of something warm against his back. He figures he can deal with all of that in a minute, when he’s actually awake. He sighs gently, and then something tightens around his waist, and Juuse’s eyes pop open so fast he’s almost blinded by the sun. He rolls, and—

“Pekka?” he asks, bewildered, voice still scratchy from sleep. “Is that you?”

Pekka cracks open one eye before he closes it again. “I’m supposed to lose my memory first, Juuse.”

“Why are you in my bed?” Is he panicking? He’s pretty sure he’s panicking.

“Well, first, it’s our bed.” Pekka stretches his arm over his head, knuckles rapping against the headboard. He is incredibly calm for having just woken up spooning his understudy. “Also, I fell asleep here, which I usually do.”

“What do you mean usually?” Juuse looks over his shoulder, realizes he’s not in his room. What the fuck. He’s about to have a heart attack.

Pekka opens his eyes and frowns. He sits up a little, leans on his forearm and feels Juuse’s forehead with his other hand. The blanket slips off of him and he’s shirtless, god. Juuse tries not to stare. “Are you feeling okay? Did you get hit in the head or something?”

“I—no,” Juuse says, and he tries not to squirm. “Did I, like, did I sleepwalk into your room? I swear I fell asleep in mine.”

Pekka blinks at him. “Okay, hold on. You fell asleep here, like you always do. And you haven’t slept in the guest room for a while. I mean, we fought last month and you slept there for like half the night, but not _really_ since we started dating.”

Dating. Dating? Juuse stares at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Okay,” Pekka says, slowly. “Yeah, I think it’s time to give the trainers a call.”

Juuse reaches under his pillow, feels the smooth surface of his phone. When he pulls it out and turns it on, his background is a picture of him and Pekka. The date is the same, but as soon as Juuse sees it—

“Pekka,” Juuse says, and he looks up from his phone where he’s, presumably, searching for the trainer’s number. “What year is it?”

“2023,” Pekka replies, and it’s like someone’s poured a bucket of ice water onto Juuse’s head.

Juuse swallows. He says, “You should cancel that call.”

 

 

 

Explaining that Juuse woke up six years in the future is… easier than he expects. Mostly he just rambles about the last thing he remembers, which includes nothing of the past six years that Pekka’s lived through. Pekka, for his part, seems very accepting of what’s happening, though thinking that your partner has an intense concussion will probably do that to you.

“We should have breakfast,” Pekka says, decisively, when Juuse finally runs out of steam.

Juuse must look confused, because Pekka’s smiling as he gets out of bed. “Just because you traveled through time doesn’t mean you can’t be hungry.”

Pekka kinda has a point there. Juuse watches while he stretches his arms over his head with a yawn, shuffles his way into the bathroom. He’s not as skinny as he was—so he finally managed to put on some weight. Juuse thinks, _Six years_. Pekka would be, what, forty? He realizes that Pekka’s probably retired. The idea of that is… Juuse can’t wrap his head around it. The idea of not playing with him.

“Are you with the Preds still?” Juuse asks.

Pekka peeks his head out of the bathroom, his cheeks and chin covered in shaving cream. “Oh, yeah. I retired a couple years ago.” Retired. It’s worse coming out of his mouth. “But I’m still here, obviously. I’m an assistant goaltending coach now. I get to yell at you and Tommy, your backup.”

Juuse gets out of bed, wanders into the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. Almost the same, honestly. He’s grown out his hair a little, seems to be doing slightly better in the stubble department. He’s lost some of the stubborn baby fat, at least.

“Admiring yourself?” Pekka says, amused. “You’re still very handsome.”

Juuse scoffs, but he’s grinning. Another thing: he doesn’t blush as easy as he used to. Which is good. He glances at Pekka while he brushes his teeth. He’s going a little gray at the temples, has a few more wrinkles and smile lines. He’s less toned than he used to be, now that he doesn’t have to keep up with the training regimen of a professional athlete. Probably still works out, but he’s got the slightly soft belly of someone who enjoys beers with dinner. He looks—well, Juuse’s a little biased.

Juuse explores a little when Pekka waves him away from helping with breakfast. He’s still living in the same house, but it looks less like he let an interior decorator decide everything. There are more pictures, for one: Roman’s wedding, Pekka and Juuse at the Sibelius, Pekka in front of—inexplicably—the Grand Canyon. Juuse grinning with a medal around his neck, Pekka in a suit and his arm around his waist.

There’s a throw blanket and pillows and a stack of books in the bay window; books and blankets everywhere, really. It looks comfortable, lived in. More like a home than somewhere to pass through. It’s—really nice. Juuse imagines the life they’ve lived, the things they’ve done, places they’ve gone. It’s soothing in a way, to know that they’re happy together.

Pekka calls him to breakfast, but Juuse takes his time heading to the kitchen. It’s like he’s peeking in on someone else’s life. Voyeuristic. He knows this is still him, but it’s a life he hasn’t lived yet. It feels wrong, in a way.

Pekka’s sitting at the kitchen island, plates of eggs, turkey bacon, and toast set out, his tablet next to him. Juuse hops up onto the stool, smiles when Pekka looks at him.

“Roman got married,” Juuse says, pouring water for the both of them. “It looked like a fun wedding.”

“Honestly, I can barely remember it,” Pekka confesses. He laughs quietly. “Let’s just say no one was really, uh, sober for about half of it.”

Juuse laughs. “So fun, then.”

They chat companionably—it’s not like Pekka isn’t Pekka anymore. This is still the guy Juuse was (is? will be?) in love with.

After they clean the dishes, Pekka checks his tablet. “It’s an optional skate today. I still have to head in around 12 to meet up with the coaches, but you don’t have to come.”

“I might stay at home,” Juuse replies. “I don’t know how useful I might be like this.”

Pekka smiles. “Fair enough.”

“Can’t believe I’m playing without you. As a starter.” He mumbles, “And I haven’t grown any taller, either.”

Pekka bursts out laughing so hard he has to sit down. Juuse can’t help but grin watching him, bent over at the waist. Pekka wipes tears from his eyes, and Juuse looks at him, the way he gazes back, and he thinks, Oh.

Oh.

 

 

 

Juuse knows he’s in love with Pekka. He doesn’t know how he couldn’t be. It’s just that everything seems so distant, unachievable—the idea of Pekka loving him back was practically an impossibility. He’s experienced, established, and Juuse’s just a rookie mooning over his hero, has a crush on the guy he watched growing up.

But this Pekka looks at him the same way Juuse’s Pekka does. Like he can barely look away.

 

 

 

Juuse hangs out with Pekka for a while, before he has to head out for his meeting. They talk about everything benign: how the team’s been playing, what their teammates have been up to. It’s easy.

“We can get lunch when I come back,” Pekka suggests, putting on his sneakers in the foyer. “Chipotle?”

“When did you start liking Chipotle?”

“I’m retired,” Pekka grumps. “I’m allowed to like Chipotle now.”

Juuse laughs. “Alright, we can go to Chipotle.”

Pekka leans in, kisses him on the cheek. Juuse reflexively touches him on the waist, so used to Pekka giving him hugs on the ice when there’s bulky goalie pads to get in the way of everything. Pekka pulls away immediately, but Juuse doesn’t want him to go.

“Sorry,” Pekka says, a wry turn to his mouth. “Habit. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

The door clicks shut, and Juuse stands there for a moment, just breathing.

 

 

 

It feels weird to be in the house by himself. It echoes in a way he never noticed, living here. He wanders around, absently running his fingers over surfaces, peeking into rooms.

Picture frames throughout the house that once held abstract art or stock images have been filled. Sometimes with things Juuse doesn’t recognize—mountains, beaches, that kind of thing. Pekka still has his guitar from when Nashville hosted the All-Star Game, mounted on the wall of the office. The weird art and photography books that they never touched but continued to line the shelves seem to have been replaced with other things. Actual books, for one. It seems less like the place a 30 year old bachelor lives in and more like… a home, Juuse guesses. Like he got his nesting instinct a little late.

Juuse smiles at the thought. Pekka buying, like, throw blankets and nice-smelling candles. It’s kind of sweet.

There are two Finland jerseys—one Juuse’s, one Pekka’s—mounted in a frame and hung above the television. There’s a little engraved plate in each. One for Pekka’s Worlds medal, the other for the Olympics. Finland medaled with Juuse on the roster.

Juuse sits on the couch, props his feet up on the coffee table. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it. His home screen is a picture of Pekka, grinning from the other side of the tub, pleasantly warm with a glass of wine in one hand. He pauses on it for a second before he decides against—it’s not really snooping, but it seems like it. He turns on the TV instead.

 

 

 

Pekka texts him when he’s in the driveway, and Juuse joins him in the car.

“How was your meeting?” he asks, buckling himself in.

Pekka shrugs. “Just the usual. A little boring, but important.” Juuse hums in response. “What did you do?”

“Just watched TV, really. Kind of—felt bad about looking around, I guess? Didn’t feel like I could, or should.”

Pekka nods. “I see why you wouldn’t want to.”

There’s an amiable lull in the conversation, Pekka humming along to the radio.

“When did we, you know.” Pekka glances at him, eyebrow quirked, and Juuse rolls his eyes, but adds, “Start dating.”

Pekka hmms. “It started during your first full year with the Preds, I think. You were still living with me, but you moved out the year after.”

“I moved out? Why?”

Pekka glances at him again. There’s a slight pause before he finally says, “If I told you, would that change anything?”

“Don’t be cryptic,” Juuse mutters. “I end up here anyway, don’t I?”

“I feel like it’s an important thing to consider,” Pekka says. “It was—well, complicated doesn’t really begin to cover it. It was a moment where I wasn’t sure if we would stay together. But if you know what happened, would you try and change it? What would happen then?” He shakes his head. “It was hard, but I think it made us better. It was important. I think you have to let it happen.”

Juuse huffs, but Pekka has a point. He wonders what was so awful between them that Pekka thinks it almost ended them. He might be desperately curious, but it’s true. Juuse can’t say he wouldn’t use the information he learns here, if he remembers it. At the same time, what if Juuse doesn’t do it right? What if they never get together and it’s Juuse’s fault?

Pekka seems to sense Juuse’s uncertainly, because he gently touches his hand. “I know it seems hard. But—just from my perspective? I was in love with you for a long time. I don’t think you have to worry about it.”

Juuse takes a deep breath. Pekka doesn’t move his hand.

 

 

 

Pekka does, in fact, take him to Chipotle. Juuse is absolutely fascinated by the prospect of watching Pekka order a burrito bowl, carefully selecting the ingredients he wants. He gets distracted by Pekka asking for extra guacamole, and patiently answering yes when the person asks him if he knows it’s extra.

Apparently Juuse took him to Chipotle once when they started dating and Pekka got terribly, desperately hooked. Juuse doesn’t even like Chipotle that much.

“Just doesn’t seem like something you’d be particularly interested in, I guess,” Juuse says with a shrug as he unwraps his burrito. “You know, you love going to upscale restaurants and stuff.”

“Sometimes you just want a bowl of lettuce and beans,” Pekka says, wisely. Juuse rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but smile, either.

“How do you think you’re getting back to your time?” Pekka asks. “You probably wanna get back there sooner rather than later.”

Juuse shrugs. “I figure I go back the same way I showed up. Eventually I’ll wake up where I should be.”

“Hopefully it won’t be harder than that,” Pekka says, amused. “No offense, but I’d like my Juuse back.”

“None taken,” Juuse replies. “I want my Pekka back, too.”

Pekka clutches at his chest dramatically. Juuse grins as he gets back to his food.

 

 

 

They really don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day, and honestly Juuse’s about ready to nap. He wonders what Pekka does during his off days. It’s not like he has to do anything particularly important. Not that coaching isn’t important, but—well. He’s gonna assume that Pekka doesn't do very much.

When he asks, Pekka says, “I still nap. Well, honestly, you make me nap with you, but I don’t mind.”

“Ah,” Juuse says. There’s a short pause. “Do you wanna nap with me, then?”

Pekka smiles at him. “Sure.”

It probably should be weirder than it is to get back in bed with Pekka. It’s not like they haven’t fallen asleep in the same bed before. Being perpetually sleepy athletes will do that to you. But this is different, isn’t it?

Pekka gets into the other side of the bed. There’s a careful amount of space between them, which Juuse understands, but also doesn’t necessarily appreciate.

“Sorry if you think we’re going to get up to anything,” Pekka says, mild. “Turns out that I do have a line.”

Juuse laughs. “I get it. But, you know, I wouldn’t mind if we cuddled a little.”

Pekka smiles, holds his arm out for Juuse to wriggle into, rests his head onto Pekka’s chest. He’s practically a radiator, and he’s as good as a pillow.

“This is really nice,” Juuse murmurs. “I can see why I still like you so much.”

When Pekka chuckles, Juuse can feel it under his chest.

 

 

 

Dinner is nice. Juuse helps out as best as he can, which mostly means cutting up small vegetables and setting timers. Pekka says the future version of him is a pretty good cook and kept collecting cookbooks, now lined neatly on a shelf, so they could try new recipes. Pekka shows him the stuffed binder, and Juuse flips through it while the salmon bakes and Pekka chops up bell peppers and garlic. It’s half printed scans from ancient cookbooks that a parent must have sent over, half notes alternating Pekka’s and Juuse’s handwriting, all liberally peppered with sticky notes.

“Cheat days have been pretty interesting the past few years,” Pekka says. “Your mom sent over half of those. She says they were your grandma’s.”

“I missed eating some of this,” Juuse says. “Not the cabbage rolls, though.”

Pekka pours them two glasses of beer to go with dinner. “This is what Ryan brought over the other day. It’s from the brewery he started.”

“Impressive,” Juuse replies. “Didn’t think Ryan would be into starting his own business.”

“Well, he’s starting to think about what he’ll do after retiring.” Pekka sits at the table, motions for Juuse to take his seat. “Gotta have something to do.”

“Do you ever get bored?” Juuse asks. “I mean, I already get bored half to death on off days. I don’t know what I would do.”

“Well, with any luck, you’ll get to play as long as I do. But I spend all my time dealing with you.” Pekka grins at him. “Haven’t gotten bored just yet.”

 

 

 

Juuse’s looking for clothes—they’ve completely overhauled their dresser situation—when he finds the ring. It’s in a small, black velvet box, wedged between two piles of plain t-shirts. It’s a simple gold band, nothing particularly fancy. He stares at it for a while before he closes the box and puts it back in its hiding place, finds his pajamas and underwear.

He thinks about it while he’s in the shower. Juuse can’t even think about the idea of marrying Pekka, not when they’re not even dating. But—he knows the version of him here would say yes, without hesitation. Juuse wonders why Pekka has been waiting all this time.

He doesn’t know if he should bring it up. He looks at himself in the steamy mirror, brushes his teeth. Pekka’s probably had the ring for a while. It seems like the kind of thing he’d do, nervously hiding a ring from the boyfriend he’d been living with for five years. The idea is genuinely endearing.

When he comes out of the shower, Pekka’s already reading in bed. Juuse crawls in next to him, smiles when Pekka immediately and absently holds his arm out for Juuse to rest his head against.

“What are you reading?” Juuse asks, and Pekka flips it shut, thumb keeping his page, to show Juuse the cover. “Luongo’s memoir. He’s a funny guy. I promised you could read it when I’m done, so I’m trying to get through it faster.”

Juuse hums. “That does sound good.”

Pekka finishes the chapter while Juuse dozes, puts it on the nightstand and turns off the light before he settles into bed with a sigh.

“Did you have a good day?” Pekka murmurs.

Juuse nods. “Future me is cool, which I expected. Future you is alright, but future us? That’s really good.”

Pekka laughs softly. “You grow out of the brattiness eventually, in case you’re wondering.”

There’s a pleasant silence, Juuse listening to the soft tick of Pekka’s watch on the nightstand.

“You know I would say yes, right?” Juuse asks, quiet. “Like, I don’t know—I think I’d be really happy with you. I don’t know what version of me wouldn’t say yes.”

He listens to Pekka breathe for a moment, wonders if he already fell asleep. Then, finally, Pekka gives him a gentle squeeze. “Thanks. I guess I’m still worried about us. I know it’s silly, and that I should just go for it, but—I still do.”

Juuse looks up at him in the dark, the shape that a different him has already gotten used to. He wraps one arm around Pekka’s waist, kisses him on the chin.

“Any me would be lucky to be married to you,” Juuse says. “And I’m a catch, so.”

Pekka chuckles. “You’re absolutely right on that one. Dated way above my pay grade.”

Juuse yawns, cuddles a little closer. “Glad we got that conversation done with. Goodnight, Pekka.”

Pekka kisses him on the top of his head. “Goodnight, Juuse.”

It's so warm under the covers. Juuse almost doesn't want to fall asleep, when he knows the moment he closes his eyes all of this will be gone, evaporating like a dream. He thinks he could really get used to this. He thinks that it could be enough, to just be here.

 

 

When Juuse wakes up, he knows he’s where he’s supposed to be. He’s back in the guest room, and there isn’t a warm body pressed next to him, arm wrapped around him to keep him close. He checks his phone, just to make sure. Same year, same day.

There’s a knock at the door, and Pekka pokes his head in. He looks sleep rumpled and—not younger, though of course he is. Just... right. “Hey. Wanna get up for breakfast?”

Juuse throws the covers off. “Yeah. I’ll come and help.”

**Author's Note:**

> I sure am posting a lot of stuff this year. Best not to get used to it.
> 
> If you wanna have a chat, I’m over on [Tumblr](http://arzoensis.tumblr.com) too—and I answer stuff a lot better there. Oops.


End file.
